A Mile in Your Shoes
by Mird
Summary: Roy discovers a little thing called sympathy. Parental!RoyEd -oneshot-


**You have no idea how long this took to write. I don't exactly like the ending, but that's okay. Roy's a bit OOC, but I really can't help it. He's a really hard character to write for.**

A Mile in Your Shoes

Roy had had enough.

The day had been filled with paperwork, as per usual, but on a much higher level, due to the fact that he had been sick for the past three days and was further behind on work than he liked to admit.

Why Fullmetal had to come back on THAT particular day was beyond him; the kid's timing was always the worst. He had nearly broken the door when he slammed it against the wall, adding considerably to both Roy's headache and his bad mood.

Despite Ed's seemingly focused stomp towards his desk, looking straight ahead as if determined to get it over with, he was far from attentive as Roy spoke to him. His attention wandered constantly, which infuriated the older man to no end. To top it all off, the report he handed in was barely legible, with grammar that a nine year old would easily be able to correct. As a result, Roy commanded him to completely rewrite it, an order that Fullmetal didn't take well at all.

Roy groaned and held a hand to his forehead, trying to keep his mind off of the day behind him and instead stay focused on the comfortable bed that awaited him only a few doors down...

His shoes clicked against the floor of his hallway, as he was too tired to remove them when he entered the house. He opened his bedroom door with a creak and collapsed onto his bed, still in full military uniform.

The darkness that he saw behind his closed eyes was so, so inviting, and yet, something still nagged at the back of his mind.

There was a bright flash of light that he could see, even with his eyes closed. They snapped open and saw a hazy apparition floating above his bed. He shrieked loudly, staring with horror at what appeared to be an angel.

"W-who are you?!" he asked, involuntarily shaking at the Christmas Carol-esque situation.

"I'm your conscience," said the angel, her arms folded across her chest. She gave him a disapproving glance, which he knew for sure was not a good sign.

"Conscience...? Am I dreaming? Or did I do something wrong?" he asked nervously, the curious, exhausted, not-thinking-straight side getting the better of him.

"The latter," said the angel. She turned her head, the ghostly form of hair flowing behind her in constant motion. She surveyed the room, finding nothing of interest. Her shadowy form was laced with a golden-white light that was nearly blinding, but at the same time, barely even there. "It's about Edward."

Roy's face darkened. "That stupid, annoying little brat? What does HE have to do with anything?"

The angel snorted. "That's exactly what I mean! You're too hard on him. Maybe you had a bad week, but that's no excuse. Have you ever considered that he might have had a bad week too? You need to learn that the world doesn't revolve around you. (1)You need to learn about sympathy."

With a great whirl of motion, she flew straight into him, filling him with the feeling of waking up desperately thirsty and then drinking a glass of water.

Everything went black.

* * *

It was a dream. Of that, he was sure. But then why did everything look so real? And where was he? Hopefully, it wasn't one of those bizarre, mixtures-of-places dreams. Those were a million times worse when one was aware that it was truly happening.

His eyes adjusted, and he realized he was in a hallway, one that was short but dark. He raised an eyebrow at the tiny boy standing at a door that stood slightly ajar and staring inside.

Curiously, he stood behind the boy, seeing what he was seeing.

The back of a man's head, sitting at a desk, surrounded by research and alchemic documents. His first thought was Fullmetal, because of the resemblance in hair style, but he shook this assumption away. As the man turned his head, he saw a beard and glasses, tipping him off that it couldn't be Edward.

Or could it?

This dream could take place in the future. He didn't doubt it. But then where did the kid come from?

Glancing down at the small boy again (and deciding that he was, in fact, invisible in this dream, seeing as the boy hadn't yet noticed him) he changed his mind about the nature of the dream.

He wasn't in the future. He was in the past.

This was Edward as a child.

* * *

The scene changed. He was standing near the entrance of the house, beside a window with no light shining through it. It was early in the morning, according to the clock on the wall.

The front door opened and in came two adults; a man with long blond hair, a beard and glasses (the same man he had seen earlier) and a pretty woman with brown hair and a kind face. Ed and Al's parents.

_She's pretty..._ Roy thought to himself. _I'd like to date her...Oh. She's dead, though._

The man spoke first. "Don't tell the children about...My body," he said, sounding almost nervous.

"Okay," she (Trisha, if he remembered correctly from conversations with Ed) replied. "Are you sure you don't want me to wake them?"

"Uh huh," the man said with a nod, pulling on his coat. "If I see their faces...I might cry."

"It's okay to cry, silly," Trisha said, smiling a smile that could be either happy or sad. It was hard to tell.

The man seemed to be listening, but to something else. There was a small sound as two little boys, not much older than four or three respectively, walked down the hall, their movements sluggish from obvious exhaustion. They looked as if they had just gotten out of bed. They probably HAD just gotten out of bed.

"What are you two doing up so early?" Trisha asked curiously.

"Al hadda go pee," said the slightly taller one with a yawn. It was strange, but it seemed that Ed, as a little kid, was just the same as everyone else of his age.

"Oh, so you were looking after Al? Thank you, Ed." She leaned over and patted his head. Ed rubbed his eyes and looked straight up at his father, whose eyes were nearly hidden by his glasses. Confused looks crossed the both of the Elric brothers' faces, as if they had no idea what was going on.

The man gave them a look, whether it was anger, sadness, or something else entirely, Roy didn't know.

"Good bye," he said, and with those, his parting words, he opened the door, letting the bright morning light come in as the sun rose above the hill in the distance.

Even without knowing what was going on, when the man slammed the door behind him, Ed and Al looked afraid.

* * *

The next few parts flew by. He didn't watch them all completely, but they were in his head, and he instantly comprehended everything. Ed and Al discovering alchemy, the praise from their mother, playing with Winry, going to school...

They weren't important, but they were still fascinating. He had never seen Ed act his age before; he was always either being incessantly immature, or acting well beyond his years and taking the role of the adult that he had been forced to become.

Here, in this strange dream-like world, was just an ordinary five year old, then an ordinary six year old, then an ordinary seven your old and so on.

The next significant event in Ed's life happened when he was nine... (2)

* * *

"MOM!!"

It was Al who had screamed; Ed seemed rooted to the spot, staring in horror at the form of his mother sprawled across the floor, the basket of vegetables that she had been holding lying overturned in the corner, completely forgotten.

While Al tried to wake her up, Ed did the only sensible thing he could think of; he called for help.

He ran out the door in a panicked rush, sprinting down the path with Roy following behind him, remaining unnoticed and becoming worried.

The boy crashed through the door of the Rockbell house without knocking, drawing the attention of the three inhabitants; a young girl, an old woman, and their dog.

"What the hell was that for kid?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" the old woman yelled, sending a threatening glare his way.

Ed ignored her. "It's mom! It- I- She- S-she's..."

* * *

Dead.

Roy had been to funerals before, but this...Was horrible. The boys had no one to turn to. Their father was gone, not present even at his own wife's funeral. All they really had was each other, and although they always seemed to think that this was enough, he had always suspected that they needed someone else, too.

Roy's attention wandered from the funeral and he reflected on his own thoughts, reconsidering his actions towards the kid, some of which probably made him even more miserable than he already was.

_I suppose I could've been a bit nicer to him...But the brat's always asking for it, trying to piss me off all the time, and succeeding too...Plus, I'm not really a fatherly kind of person...He'd probably just end up getting mad and stomping off..._

"That's exactly what I mean," an eerie sounding voice said, causing Roy to jump. "You're just thinking about yourself, not him. You don't want to go through the embarrassment of changing your personality, even if it would make him feel better. He doesn't like being around you, and who can blame him? You're always teasing him, even when he needs you to take him seriously. He rarely asks for your help, but when he does, you just mock him for it. Let's skip ahead in his life a bit, shall we?"

Roy cut in. "I really don't see the point of all this- Are you trying to make me pity him or something? Because I know for one thing, he HATES that, and-"

His conscience snorted. "This isn't about pity. You just need to see how things really are for him. You need to learn to look at the world through his eyes as well as your own. This isn't about pity, it's about understanding. Everything happens for a reason. You need to accept that fact."

* * *

How strange it was, to see a younger version of himself speaking to the younger version of Edward.

Roy watched as other-Roy explained to Ed all the benefits of being a state alchemist; the research funding, the access to restricted documents, all kinds of staff at his disposal...

He hadn't realized until now, but...

_That little brat isn't listening to a single word_! he yelled in his head.

Although he couldn't really blame him; he assumed it would be hard to focus while sitting in a wheelchair, at the lowest point of your life, with almost no hope of surviving.

"...You can remain a self-pitying cripple with a suit of armor for a brother..." Roy heard himself say.

"Ah. There. You've only just met, and you're already picking on him. You truly do not have any decency," his conscience whispered. He didn't bother to reply.

After other-Roy left, Roy was sure he would be taken to the next scene. Instead, he discovered a little conversation that he hadn't known about when the event had actually taken place four years ago.

"Granny, I want to be a state alchemist," he said, giving her as strong of a glare as he could in his current state. "I need to be able to find a way to get Al's body back."

Roy couldn't help but notice the giant suit of armor shifting slightly at this, adjusting his hold on the handles on the back of the wheelchair.

"I need you to give me a new arm and leg so I can walk and do things on my own," he said, the look of determination in his eyes not disappearing as his limbs had.

"It'll be at least three years before you can move around freely," Pinako said matter-of-factly.

"One year," Ed corrected. This gained him a concerned look form Winry and a smug smirk from Pinako. "I have one year."

"You'll go through hell," Pinako informed him. He nodded.

"I think I can deal with hell one more time."

* * *

He had never seen Ed looking so...Weak.

That was not a word to describe Ed- He was strong and not weak. He was brave and not scared. He was always ready to face the worst, whether he was prepared or not. He was, and always would be, Fullmetal. Edward.

He was not the boy lying on that bed with wires protruding from where his limbs used to be. He was not the frightened child, breathing deeply with sweat and tears of pain running down his face.

This was not Edward.

This was some other person.

It had to be.

For the first time in his life, he WANTED to talk to Edward. There was not a single person in the world, not even HIMSELF, who could look at the young boy on the bed and be able to just stare from a distance.

This is what he told himself as he settled down on the chair next to the bed, careful not to disturb any wires.

"Hey," he said, surprised when Ed tiredly turned his head toward him. Up until now, no one had noticed he was even there. "Hey, Ed. Are you doing okay? Do you need anything?"

Edward looked confused, and Roy couldn't blame him. He probably didn't even know who he was; if he called Winry, it was unclear what would happen to Roy. But if the kid kept this to himself, it would probably turn out okay. If he remembered it later, he could just dismiss it as a hallucination from the constant fever.

Ed surprised him once more by answering. "Water?" he said, phrasing it as a question. His obviously dry throat couldn't handle any more words than that simple request.

Roy nodded, walking briskly into the kitchen. He located a glass and poured tap water into it, hoping Ed didn't mind if it wasn't very cold.

He stepped back into Ed's room, smirking slightly at the look of surprise on Ed's face. "What, did you think I'd tell you I was getting you some water and then just LEAVE? Here, drink up." He handed Ed the glass, and watched as he fumbled with it, trying and failing to lift it to his lips with only one hand.

Roy gently took the glass back and tilted Ed's head back slightly, just enough so that he could help get the water down his throat.

Ed gulped it down and gave Roy a look of thanks, smiling as much of a smile as he could manage.

"Anything else?" Roy asked. Ed quickly shook his head. "You sure?" he ran his fingers through Ed's hair, a technique he often used to calm himself down after a long week. It was rather relaxing, and relaxation was one thing that Ed wouldn't be enjoying very often for the next few years.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall and had half a mind to hide, before he heard the familiar voice of his 'conscience' again.

"Don't worry; Ed's the only one who can see you. Even he can't, now. The effect was temporary. I'm just glad you learned to be a little bit nicer to the kid."

Roy nodded silently, watching as Winry re-soaked the wet towel that he kept on Ed's head in an attempt to bring down the fever.

"Winry..." Ed said, his voice still cracked and strained, despite the water he had been given only a few minutes earlier. "An angel came while you were gone."

"An angel?" she asked curiously. "What do you mean? I thought you didn't have a religion."

"I don't. Who says you have to have a religion to believe in angels?"

Winry shrugged. "Fair enough...What makes you say it was an angel?"

"Because," Ed began stubbornly. "He appeared out of nowhere, just like angels do, and he was nice. No one's ever that nice to me. He gave me some water because I was thirsty and he-" Ed started coughing, an immediate cue for Winry to run out of the room and refill Ed's glass of water.

Roy knew Ed was only saying those things because he was delusional from the fever, but even so, he couldn't help but feel flattered.

* * *

"ARGH! I GIVE UP! THIS IS _IMPOSSIBLE_!" Ed yelled, throwing the pen down to the floor. "I can't even write my own name!"

Al picked up the pen and placed it back in his brother's hand, patiently watching Ed struggle. "I know it's hard, but it just takes practice. You need to learn how to write with your left hand; Winry said it herself. Your automail is as similar as it can be to a normal limb, but it's not exactly the same. There's no way you can write with your right hand any more." (3)

Ed sighed, giving the pen a quick glare. "I know," he said. "But it's so _hard_..."

Al nodded. "I know," he said, putting a hand on Ed's shoulder. "Just try one more time, okay?"

Ed paused, then sighed. "Okay. I'll try one more time."

* * *

The burning fire was a familiar sight for Roy, but he still had to wonder, _Why?_

His answer came in the form of a conversation between the two brothers.

"There's no turning back now," Ed sat, casting away the torch in his hand.

Al nodded, the armor that was his body illuminated by the flames.

Winry stood next to them, tears running down her face. Ed frowned. "What are you crying for?" he asked worriedly. "It's fine; this is our choice."

"But…I...It's just..." she sniffled, unable to get the words out.

Ed laughed. "You've always been a crybaby...Haven't you, Winry?"

* * *

The last scene.

He knew that it was the last scene. He didn't know how he knew, and yet, he knew. Afterwards, though, he was nowhere.

He was nowhere, he was everywhere. He was there for years....he was there for no time at all. He was alive and he was dead.

And he thought.

_This entire thing has been about understanding...She said that, right? That's what this is about...So I guess I'm supposed to understand. About the smaller things that bother me so much...And I guess I haven't really been a great person around him..._

He shook his head. _I'm being way too sentimental. This isn't right..._

"No. It's fine. Here, I'll finish for you. After all I am your conscience." She gave him a smile, the first smile he had seen from her face. "You've been too hard on him because you're always just thinking about yourself; he's an easy target because there're so many things that get to him. But you've never really noticed just how MUCH they get to him- it was always about you, making your own day easier by taking everything out on him, despite the fact that it makes his day worse. He doesn't show it, of course. So obviously you never realized how much you bother him. To tell the truth, he may not have realized how much it bothered him, either. He doesn't put himself first because no one had ever told him that he can. Around you, he's Fullmetal, but that's not his real name. You don't need to be overprotective like a parent, you don't need to comfort him like some sort of therapist. That's not what he wants, and it's not what he needs. If you treated him just a little bit better and realized that he has needs of his own. You're going to wake up now, and when you get to work, there's something you need to do."

_What?_

"You know what it is. Good bye- I'll see you again sometime. After all, you mess up quite a bit. You'll need my services again, I guarantee."

Everything went black.

Then everything went white.

* * *

The door crashed open for the second time in a row, revealing the face of Fullmetal, who looked even more angry than he had the day before.

"Here," he snapped, tossing the paper down on the desk in front of him and waiting impatiently, his mismatched arms crossed in front of him.

Roy picked it up and raised an eyebrow; the handwriting had improved considerably. He bit his lip, remembering the scene from his dream...How long had it taken Ed to get it so perfect looking? There barely any spelling or grammar errors either, which was surprising, seeing as Ed was rather lacking when it came to education.

He read through it quickly, taking in all the details. Although it wasn't directly mentioned in the report, it was reasonably obvious that he hadn't gotten much sleep over the course of his trip. _I guess that's why he wasn't paying attention yesterday; the kid needs to get more sleep._

He gave a quick nod, placing the report in a drawer. He'd decide what to do with it later.

"You have a week until your next mission. Relax for a while."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "Huh? I thought you said I had to leave tomorrow..."

"Well, I changed my mind. It's not that important- it can wait a few days. In the meantime, get some sleep. You look tired. That's an order, by the way."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. When did you start _caring_, anyways?"

Roy shrugged. "Eh. I don't know. Things happen." He smiled slightly. Not a smirk; a smile.

"...Thanks," said Ed awkwardly, unsure of how to react to the sudden change in personality.

"You're welcome," Roy replied, nodding stiffly. His face brightened as if he had just remembered something important. "Ah, that reminds me; if you get a dream from some angel thing that says she's your conscience, pay attention. It could be important."

"...Weirdo."

"Shrimp."

For the first time ever, the word was not followed by a rant. The door closed with a click instead of a bang and Roy sat back in his chair, relaxing.

_"There," _an eerie, but kind voice said, speaking through the window._ "That wasn't so bad, was it?"_

Roy shook his head. "Guess not." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "...Thanks."

_"Think nothing of it."_

The End

* * *

**(1) Both the manga and the anime make a point of saying that this isn't the case, but I still think that he sometimes acts like it is. He's always described as 'the kind of person who wouldn't abandon someone, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed', but I've never really thought of him as a sympathetic person.**

**(2) I always thought he was nine when Trisha died, and Al was eight…you might have a different idea, but that's what I think.**

**(3) This is what I thought happened; Ed was right handed before getting automail, because it had always seemed obvious to me that automail doesn't function the right way to hold a pen or a pair of scissors. Again, you might have a different idea. But that's okay.**

**At first, I intended to write a part about the human transmutation, but words really can't describe that. It can only be explained in pictures, if you ask me.**

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